


Fire Fills My Dreams

by SassyStrider



Series: GhostyTrickster [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fire, Like a house is set on fire, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStrider/pseuds/SassyStrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fire fills my dreams and engulfs me, filling my soul with smoke.</p><p>It's all my fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flames

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to think of this as the first part of "GhostyTrickster" if you don't want. This is a good story just by itself. However, I decided to link it to "GhostyTrickster"

I'm at the young age of fifteen. I live with my father, and I happily love to bake with him. Sometimes the sweet smell of cakes can get annoying, but it makes him happy, so it's fine. Every so often, we'll send pastries to my cousin Jane, even though they bake too. Jane gives me cakes, I give her cakes. A never-ending trade.

Like right now, the delicate smell of chocolate wafts through the kitchen and filters into the house. I lean against my chair as I chat to my friend, turntechGodhead. Er, Dave, rather. While he tries so diligently to be "cool", this guy is a huge nerd. Like, he raps and then goes on the longest rants about the stupidest things! Once, he elucidated the importance of Doritos. 

"Son, can you go out and grab the mail? I'm busy filing some papers." My father's deep voice echos through the house as he asks me the favor of going to get the mail. Huh, that's odd. Usually he got the mail, even if he was busy with paperwork. Maybe he had something arriving for him?

"Sure thing, dad!" I jog leisurely down the stairs, the smell of chocolate still sharp. There's also the smell of something that smells a bit like...charcoal? It tangs my nostrils and I idly wonder how long the cake has been in there. Didn't I put it in about twenty minutes ago? No, a half an a hour? Huh. Oh well. The timer hasn't beeped yet, so it must not be ready. This must just be a very chocolaty cake. 

I swing the door shut behind me and pace up to the mailbox, sliding the mail out of it and looking through the senders and topics, wondering what could possibly be so important that dad would send you out here to get the mail yourself. Unbeknownst to me, the house is starting to smoke and it grows ablaze more every minute, but I'm here sifting through the mail, leaning against the mailbox and thinking about things like Dave, the cake, my dad, and the mail. 

After several minutes, I turn around and notice the smoke and mild flames. Screaming, I quickly take out my phone and dial 911 as I try to run into the house. 

"911, what's your emergency?" The lady on the line speaks in a too soft voice. However, it's not like she can see or sense the fire that's burning my house at the moment, and aren't 911 dispatchers supposed to remain calm so that they don't freak out the caller? 

"My house is on fire and my dad's inside it!" Then, a thought occurs to me. The stove. The cake was ready and yet I left the stove on like a fucking idiot. "I-I think I might have left the stove on and then this happened!" 

"It's okay, sir. Where is your location, so we may reach you?" She tries to stay in a state of relaxation, so that I won't panic and do something irrational, and I'm thankful for that.

"Uh, 21605 Fir Drive, in Maple Valley. That's my house address. Like, the one that's on fire. I j-just, my dad's in there! Please come quick." Past the door, the stairs are a fiery, crumbling mess, and my dad is right above the stairs, trying desperately to escape. Once he spots me, he tries to yell something out to me. However, his words are unintelligible, and lips move without the sound ever reaching my ears. 

"We just sent the fire department. They are currently on their way. How terrible is the fire?" As the lady says this, a painting falls down, and I'm getting over-heated, panting lightly.

"U-um, pretty bad. The stair area looks terrible and my father is at the top of the stairs, but he can't get down. The ceiling looks like it has some holes in it and s-some of the paintings are burnt and the couch is a charred mess oh god." I'm trying to find anything to put out the fire, but to no avail. The kitchen is off-limits, and the bathroom is shut off from where I am by flickering flames. My eyes flit back over to watch where my father is and my eyes widen as I see the fire surround him and he screeches loud enough that I can hear it. His skin crackles as it burns and he falls to the floor.  
I shriek into the phone and tears spill down my face as my breath comes out in staccato bursts as I cough and hack due to the smoke. "DAD NO!" My voice cracks as the fire moves on from my father to whatever surface it decides to devour next. 

"Sir, what's wrong? Did something happen to your father? Sir?" My brain registers that someone is speaking to me, but it doesn't want to give whoever is speaking an answer. I manage to choke out a few sobs and unidentifiable noises.

"I-I- my f-father just- he got burned. The fl-flames circled around him and he- oh god. He's dead isn't he?" My voice wavers as I try my hardest to reply to the 911 dispatcher.

"Oh my. Well, sir, please remain calm, and the firefighters should be there within minutes." Nodding my head, I turn away, ready to walk out of the house. However, I can't help but look behind me as I'm running out, and my father's body lies on the floor, motionless. Tears well up in my eyes again as I dash out of the household and sit down on the edge of the sidewalk with my face in my soft hands. Sobs rack through my body and shake my shoulders. 

Minutes pass before I hear blaring sirens. I lift my head from my hands and look up to see a firetruck and an ambulance coming my way. I'm relived, to say the least, but also nervous. They get out of their truck and get out ladders and hoses. Each hose sprays the house from a different angle, and the flames die down one by one. One of the firefighters checks the home for my father, and trudges out of the house with a limp body in his arms. My eyebrows shoot up and I scrabble to get up. When I manage to somewhat successfully stand, I ungracefully scamper over to where they are. The firefighter looks up from the body and notices me, his expression turning to one of sympathy. 

My father's body is charred and it's barely recognizable. His once crisp white suit is black and his flesh is scorched and bloody. Bone shows in some places, and he reeks of burnt, rotting flesh. It hurts my nose and I turn away from the body, but the tears also return. Another firefighter pats me on the back and loads my father into the ambulance. The ambulance speeds away and I lean into one of the firefighters. She hugs me and I hold onto her for dear life.

"Sweetie, is there another family member that you know of that we can contact?" I nod slowly, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and giving it to her. She gets the idea and goes through my contacts. "It says here that Jane is your cousin, so shall we call her?" I nod yet again and the firefighter holds me with one arm and dials Jane's number with the other. "Would you like it on speaker phone so that you can talk to her as well or even just to hear her?" She looks down at me and, after some consideration, I answer yes.

"Hello?" Jane answers the phone and god it feels nice to hear her voice.

"Hello. Is this Jane Crocker?" The firefighter allows me to sit down on the edge of the sidewalk again, and plops down next to me. 

"Yes? Who's asking? This isn't John." I can hear the confusion in her voice and her tone is questioning. Her eyebrows must be knit together right now, because who else would be using my phone except for Dad?

"This is a firefighter. There was recently a fire at John's household, and we needed to contact a family member, and you were listed in his contacts." I sit upright and hold yourself with my arms, waiting for what happens next.

"A fire?! Is John alright? Is Uncle okay?" Now the worry is more present in her voice. I want to scream out that no, no he's not okay. He's fucking dead and charred. 

"I'm sad to say that... We do not think he made it. His body was thoroughly scorched and he showed no sign of life. I am truly sorry, Jane." The firefighter's eyes are downcast and I shove my face into my inner arm. Jane gasps loudly and puffs out a bit of air.

"U-uncle Egbert is dead?" The disbelief laces her words. Yes, he is, Jane. We all know it already so shUT UP.

"I am afraid so. This also leaves John without a home and we were hoping we could speak with your guardian?" Jane's crying can be heard through the phone.

"M-mmhmm. Let me g-go get him. Just one second." Silence falls and a despairing mood fills the air around me, making it hard to breath. 

"Hello. Jane told me all about what happened." My uncle's voice replaces the silence, and I look up from my arm. It's been a while since I've heard his voice. "Jane and I will be there shortly to pick John up. May you take him to the police center?" 

"Of course." The firefighter holds my hand and helps me get up. She ushers me into the firetruck and climbs into the driver seat, still with the phone in her other hand.

"I will see you there." The phone clicks as my uncle hangs up and the firefighter hands my cellphone back to me. She starts up the firetruck and the drive to the police center is silent as I hug myself.


	2. New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Crocker and Jane pick up John at the police station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add this to the tags: Suicidal thoughts

The police station is quiet, save for the click-clacking of the secretary's diligence on the computer's keyboard. I had been told to sit down on a bench on the side of the room and wait for Uncle Crocker and Jane to arrive. The secretary had been quite rude. When I asked him his name, he spit out with a lisp, “Psiionic Captor, kid.”

 

To which I would have replied, “Hi 'psiionic captor kid'!” if I wasn't in such a dreary state. Maybe one day, if I happen by chance to see him again, then I'll say that to him. He'd probably be pissed. However, he's just a secretary and he can't do anything. At least it'd be fun to see him aggravated.

 

Heh, I remember the jokes where I'd tell dad that I was bored, and he'd be all like, “Hello Bored, I'm dad!” And I'd whine at him to stop and we'd both have a hearty laugh and he'd play a game with me or listen to me play piano because I'd been bored before. 

 

“Kid- fuck I mean, uh, what's your name....? Oh, John, right. John, why are you crying? Do I need to go get Mr. Zahhak?” I have no idea who any of those people are and shake my had no, slumping farther into my seat and wishing that he'd just go away. That all of this would go away. _That everything would go away._ I look up and he's still staring at me with concern. Shit.

 

I try to ignore him and avert his eyes while I pretend to be interested in the pattern of the tile floor beneath me. Eventually, he looks back over at his computer and resumes clacking on the keys. The room is filled with silence no more. The click-clacking is reassuring, though. It shows that at least someone is there. 

 

Within minutes, Jane bursts through the door, Uncle Crocker following close by behind her. My eyebrows raise up as the doors fling open, and my eyes are mildly wide. I look Jane up and down as she turns around and notices me. She gasps and oh god it's so perfect to have her here. 

 

“John! Oh my god, I'm so so glad that you're alive.” She run over and flings herself at me, burying my face into her neck and squeezing me tight. So tight that it's hard to breathe, especially since I had just had smoke poured into my lungs no more than two hours ago. I cough and she flinches before pulling away, muttering apologies and looking at me thoroughly.

 

“Oh, John. I'm so sorry for what happened to you. I just...Are you at least alright? And make sure to answer that truthfully, mister! I mean both mentally and physically. You can't trick me!” She huffs at me and her eyes twinkle with worry, and possibly remains from the tears I'd heard earlier on the phone. I nod at her and she relaxes a bit, her shoulders slumping and not being as stiff. 

 

“John, you are coming to live with us.” Uncle Crocker speaks up from his position near the door and I look over at him while Jane nods. “We will make sure you'll get to be able to stay at the same school and everything, you'll just have to live with us. Was...anything recovered from the house yet?” I slowly nod my head no and Uncle Crocker's face grows more sorrowful. He turns his head to Mr. Captor and walks towards the front desk. “Excuse me, do you know when all of his belongings will be recovered?”

 

“I believe they will be sent tomorrow. They are currently working on getting the belongings out of the house. What they could salvage, at least.” His lisp makes his tone sound annoyed, though I know he isn't. At least, I don't think he is...

 

Uncle Crocker nods at Mr. Captor and sits down next to me, patting me on the back. Jane sits down opposite of me and hugs me. “Don't worry, John. We'll have a lot of fun together, okay? Father and I will give Uncle Egbert a proper funeral. Don't worry, he'll be somewhere happy, John.” Her smile hides her sadness as she wipes her eyes and adjusts the glasses on my face. I frown at her words. While she's trying to be encouraging and make me happier, it's really just reminding me of my father's death. I want to tell her that he was happy with me, but the words won't come out and I just simply nod at her. This makes her smile even wider and she stands up. Her hand helps me so that I'm standing and Uncle Crocker follows our lead. 

 

Uncle Crocker and Jane lead me to their bright red car, and Jane and I climb into the back seat, while Uncle Crocker sits in the driver's seat. Jane forwent sitting in the passenger seat to sit in the back with me. I think she wants to stay near me to comfort me over dad's death. I'm fine, really...

 

However, as we're driving home- er, to Uncle Crocker's home- I can't help but feel a sense of dread.  _I_ was the one that left the stove on.  _I_ was the one that made the fire which killed Dad. Now, Jane and Uncle Crocker are going to have to take me in. I am my own curse. I am-

 

Suddenly, Jane nudges me with her elbow and points at a book in her hand. It's quite dark in the car, so I can't see the title of the book. Jane must think it's interesting, though, and she starts to read a bit from it, laughing occasionally and making hand gestures to add to the entertainment of the story she's reading. The words all blur together. I'm so physically and emotionally tired, and I just wish to sleep forever. 

 

_Maybe, if I'm lucky, I won't wake up._

 


End file.
